Out of the Darkness
by Shekiah Rosay
Summary: Rosalie had been putting off the day that she would have to tell Emmett about what happened with Royce King. But when he finally starts asking questions, she gives in and tells her story for the first time. His reaction is not quite what she expected.
1. Chapter 1

Time for more Rosalie character study with Shekiah! I really, really think she's a misunderstood victim of circumstance. So I am Rosalie's self-appointed advocate, as always. This one has some Emmett too, which I love. :) He's just what she needs.

It's the typical recipe for a Shekiah story: angst, angst, and more angst, until lots of fluff falls in from the sky and makes everything happy. It's kind of long, so I divvied it up into two segments. :) I will admit it's a bit more graphic than my ordinary fare, but I'm keeping it real - my mantra, as you all know! Don't own the Twilight. :)

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"Rosalie, we need to talk."

As I saw him standing there in the doorway, I could already feel the dread starting to come over me. It was nauseating. Oddly enough, something about it reminded me the gross human feeling of wearing dress with an empire waist and eating too many hors d'oeuvres at a ball. What a weird analogy to think of in this moment.

I had known somewhere in the back of my mind that this day would come. But why did it have to come so soon? I mean, we'd been together for two years. It might have sounded kind of long, as teenage humans were concerned, but we were very different. Carlisle had told me once, and though I couldn't imagine it at the time, it's true that years were absolutely nothing as vampire time was concerned. It might as well have been hours, really.

I wondered if anybody had told Emmett anything. I figured somebody had, though; he wasn't the type to approach me about something like this unless he had a pretty good idea that something serious was going on that he wasn't in on. It had probably been Edward. A few weeks ago, he had even asked me when I planned on telling Emmett. I had responded a little bit too honestly.

"Never, if I can help it."

I believe those had been my exact words.

We both knew that was impossible; there were definite issues with keeping a secret that big for a length of time as long as, well, eternity. Being Edward, though, he naturally had to launch into something about how it wasn't fair of me to do this Emmett; Emmett obviously knew something was wrong; Emmett would help me through it.

Classic Edward-behavior. Self-righteous and prudish as ever.

I had to admit, though, it _wasn't_ classic Edward-behavior to leak something knowing full-well how sensitive I was about it. In all honesty, it was even un-Edward-like to try to goad Emmett into asking me himself. Edward always religiously protected other peoples' privacy; maybe he figured it was the right thing to do since he knew everything about everyone pretty much all the time.

I think I knew why Emmett was finally talking to me.

You see, he was just getting over the newborn-phase. It had taken him longer than most (which only reaffirmed my beliefs that he was surprisingly immature to begin with), but he was finally settling into the vegetarian vampire diet and thinking about things other than hunger.

And what do most twenty-year-old males think about?

Uh-huh.

Emmett and Carlisle had man-to-man talks fairly often. Mostly because of this, I think Emmett was pretty well aware that vampires were capable of sex. And Emmett was also pretty well aware that he and I were partners, in whatever sense of the word that implied for us. While it was true that we hadn't been married with all the fanfare most people associate with the event, there had been a little ceremony with a justice of the peace and the family and all of that. Esme and Carlisle had, of course, offered us a real wedding with the works, but the thought of that had sickened me just a little at the time.

That was kind of pathetic, really. I was Rosalie Hale, for heaven's sake! I was the little girl who had dressed up in her mother's old gown and played wedding with her friends. Once upon a time, I had dreamed of satin and pearls and flowers and everyone sighing at the beautiful bride – me, of course. However, things had changed. Weddings weren't the best way to commence a train of thought for me at that point. Weddings brought me back to the last few years of my human life – the years spent dreaming about a banker from Rochester, New York.

And that was as much of that as I could allow myself to think about.

Getting back to the point, Emmett knew we were married. And he knew what married people did. Naturally, he would wonder why I wasn't showing any interest. Almost as self-absorbed as I was, thinking he was being turned down would confuse him. And he'd have questions.

"Rosalie, I'm waiting," Emmett said softly, in a way uncharacteristic for him. It was strange to see his eyes narrowed in concern or anger. I didn't like it.

"What do you want to talk about?" I finally relented. He stepped into the room, having given up hope that I would offer an invitation. Likewise without asking permission, he sat down on the bed beside me. Being me, I flinched back involuntarily, and he sighed.

"That, for instance," he said.

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence. He shook his head.

"I'm over the games, Rosalie. You won't really kiss me – occasionally a peck on the lips, if I'm lucky. You sit up and read all night, long after Carlisle and Esme have shut their door. It's like you don't even want to touch me. I thought we were married. What is wrong with you?"

I really hadn't had any idea that he would hit so close to home so soon. I racked my brain for a comeback bitchy enough to delay the inevitable for a little longer.

"Oh, so just because I don't want to live out all your frat-boy fantasies means I'm a terrible wife, is that it?"

Haha. That had been a good one. Emmett sighed again.

"You know that's not what I mean. Think about it, Rosalie, you've only _recently_ let me put my arm around you. I'm your husband – or at least, I thought so. How do you expect me to be anything like that for you if you stiffen every time I walk in the room? Something big is wrong and I know it."

I refused to make eye contact, but the unexpected tenderness in his voice struck a chord with me whether I admitted it or not. He was _concerned_ about me. Truly worried, and on my behalf. It seemed kind of bizarre. Out of all the ways I'd imagined this scene played out, that wasn't one of them. I'd imagined anger and arguments and resentment and immaturity – not Emmett pleading with me to open up and get real.

The anger and fighting, I probably could have handled. But this? This was something totally different, and all of my well-rehearsed speeches went down the drain. I was winging it now.

"Emmett, it's not something I can talk about with you."

That was the best response I could come up with on the spot like that. Anything to get around actually opening up the old wounds. Unfortunately, it was admittedly pathetic, and Emmett wasn't moved.

"Rosalie, I've got eternity to wait for you to feel comfortable enough with me to talk to me about this. And I'm not exaggerating, either."

I couldn't help but smile just a little bit. That sounded a little more like Emmett. I tried to boost my confidence a little bit and take a final stab at getting him to back off – as impossible as that was. I thought I was hard-headed, but today he was really giving me a run for my money.

Could it be that I really _wanted_ to tell him?

"Em, it hasn't got anything to do with you," I said, putting my hand over his to try and express confidence I didn't feel. "It's not your fault, and you don't have to worry about it."

"Rosalie, it may not be my fault, but it's my problem now. Can't you understand? It hurts me to see you hurt. And don't try and pretend that you're not hurting, either. I'm not stupid."

I could feel the back of my throat sting a little bit. I wasn't sure if I was that touched by his words or if I just knew how close I was to cracking and confessing everything to him. Maybe both.

"Emmett, I've never talked about this before," I said quietly. "The others only know because I gave Edward permission to tell them. It's hard, you know?"

Emmett nodded. I could tell it was killing him not to reach out and put a comforting arm around my shoulders, but he knew that that wouldn't help. The tension was palpable. I actually hadn't meant to pause for so long, but once I stopped talking, it was hard to imagine starting to talk again. It was so comfortable, so _easy_, just to stop and sit silently. However, Emmett waited as patiently as promised.

This really _might_ take an eternity.

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Stay tuned for pt. 2 !!


	2. Chapter 2

I'd love some reviews on this guys - I'd like a vote of confidence on this piece. Or, I mean, some constructive criticism would be equally welcome. Thanks for all the alerts/favorites!! And, of course, thanks also for your patience - I've got the second half all ready. :) R/R!

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"Emmett, you've heard me talking about my life before getting changed, right?"

"Of course," he replied, clearly relieved that he was getting somewhere. "Your dad worked at the bank, and you were the belle of every cotillion ball in Rochester."

"Right," I replied. "And you remember me talking about getting engaged, right?"

"Yeah," Emmett waved his hand dismissively, clearly not threatened by this unknown man from my past. "Some human banker guy, right?"

"Right," I replied again, this time with less confidence. The conversation was already difficult, and it was about to get a thousand times worse. "His name was… Royce King."

Emmett continued to sit in silence. It might have been an hour that we sat there like that, and nobody came to bother us. Edward had to have a hand in this somewhere. Stupid kid was probably very pleased with himself. Finally, I found it within myself to continue on. I could see the sun setting through the open window, and knew it would only get harder to talk about this when night came.

"He was tall and strong and from a good family," I continued softly. "He had a nice smile and a calming voice with the accent of a well-bred New York boy. Everybody – that is, everybody in Rochester who mattered – agreed that we were an ideal match, and the wedding was all but planned before he even gave me the ring. He sent me flowers and dresses and new outfits from Paris all through the engagement…"

I could tell that I was smiling wistfully. How could it be, looking through the veil of all that had happened, that these memories could still be so sweet?

"I was already thinking about who I was going to be – as Rosalie Hale King. It _sounded_ nice, to say, even. It rolled off the tongue, and that only added to my sureness that it was meant to be. I knew I was born to be Mrs. Royce King. The mother of Royce King III. It's funny; it sounded so perfect back then, but so… _strange_ now. Things changed so much that night."

The lines of concern returned to Emmett's forehead.

"What happened, baby?" he asked, knowing how close we were getting to the important part of the story. My hand, still rested over his, tightened. If he had been human, my claw-like fingernails might have left a mark. But then again, if he were human, we wouldn't be here having this discussion to begin with, would we?

I would have liked to stop again like I had before, but I knew that if I did I wouldn't ever start back again. And I'd spoken so much of the unspeakable already that there was no point in wasting all the pain for nothing.

"I was walking back from Vera's house," I said, my voice cracking and disappearing in places. "It was a pretty night – a cool night. The streetlights were just coming on. My neighborhood was a safe one, you have to understand. But I guess it wasn't that night. They were there, waiting for me."

"Who were they?" Emmett inquired, leaning in closer. The scent of his breath on my cheeks brought me back to reality enough that I could keep talking.

"It was Royce," I said bitterly, more bitterly than I would have guessed that I could have. "And all his friends. They were drunk, Emmett. I didn't know what they were doing at first. I wanted to think it was a joke."

Emmett had begun to understand, and I could see the dark revulsion contorting his face.

"What did those bastards do to you?" he whispered, his voice shaking a little. It surprised me to see it, but his expression was almost childlike. Emmett clearly was capable of understanding what had happened, but he was in denial just as much as I was. He was such a child at heart after all was said and done. I continued to stare down, and I felt my eyes squinching shut and my insides curling up, like I was a little human girl about to cry.

"Royce, _Royce himself_, ripped off my jacket," I whispered. "It was one that he bought for me. I'll never forget the sound of the buttons scattering on the pavement and knowing that it was all over. Not just my dreams with him, but all my dreams. I don't know how you're imagining it, but it was worse. I knew what Royce was going to do, but it wasn't just him – it was all of them. It seemed like it took hours, but it can't have been that long. I wouldn't have lived that long. And here's the stupidest part of all – the fact that Royce could still hurt me after that. The fact that he let the others rape me too – it stung more than I can say. It almost felt like it would have been bearable, if it had been just him."

Having stopped watching Emmett, I kept on. This wasn't for him anymore – this was a release, for me.

"I don't know why I was still awake either – as Carlisle tells me, I hit my head on a lamppost and got a concussion – but I felt every bit of it. All the pain, all the _everything_. I still remember it now, and for some reason, it doesn't seem as blurry as the other human memories. I can even remember the moment they all left. I was still there in the bloody snow, and you would have thought that I would have been relieved that it was over. But I knew it wasn't over. It wouldn't be over until I had died – which, in my naivety, I didn't think was too far off."

I looked up defiantly after I was finished, expecting for some reason to see Emmett's eyes narrowed in disbelief. Maybe I hoped that he wouldn't believe it – because Then I could be convinced of what I'd hoped all along. That I'd made it all up. It hadn't really happened that way; it couldn't have.

But I wasn't expecting Emmett's mixed expression of anger, fear, disgust, and – get this – inhuman, otherworldly compassion. The expression in his eyes mixed with my own tiny, curled-up reflection looking back at me made my lip tremble in anguish and shame.

He came to me with arms outstretched.

For the first time, I allowed myself to be lifted into them. I knew logically how cold they were, but they didn't feel one one-thousandth as cold as all those hands had been that night. They were warm, strong, and wrapped around me not like a vice but like a blanket. I felt myself being lifted onto his lap and rocked slowly back and forth, and I buried my head in the hollow of his neck.

"Rosalie, baby, Rosalie, baby," he whispered between the sound of my whimpers, his lips brushing against my hair. "I'm here, I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Vampires need lullabies too, Emmett," I whispered. "Lie down with me and don't let go."

Emmett gently eased me back onto the bed and nestled beside me, my head still rested in the soft place between his neck and shoulder blade. I wasn't sure if I had ever been this close to him before, but I knew now that there was nothing more natural to me. I breathed him in deeply, like a drowning person who had finally surfaced. His scent was fresh and soft, and it intoxicated me. Though he continued to stroke my hair and whisper, the words didn't hardly mattered anymore.

Because I had finally stepped out of the darkness.


End file.
